


As unto an infant

by AquitaineQueen24



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Nothing too explicit, but still icky, references to periods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquitaineQueen24/pseuds/AquitaineQueen24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few looks at Níniel's first year or so of life, with one vital fact overlooked by all but one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As unto an infant

**Author's Note:**

> What no one seems to mention - and admittedly the incest is rather distracting - is that Túrin essentially marries a child in a woman's body. Yes, Niënor was fully grown when Glaurung cast his spell of amnesia on her, but the Níniel personality specifically had to be taught to speak and understand 'as to an infant', and is only a few years old AT BEST.

The days were filled with fear before learning to speak broke her out of the darkness, but Níniel's courses were the worst part of the first few terrifying months of her life by far.

She remembers the pain of the cramps and the pure horror of the blood, curling into herself and howling - until her throat gave out - as the only way to endure it. She cried wordlessly, hopelessly:  _help me_ , she tried to say without knowing how to or what might answer her,  ** _help me!_**

She had barely been delivered into Brandir's hands when the blood and pain hit for the first time. How could he explain what was happening to her, how could any of the women who fussed about them? You might as well try to tell a babe why teething hurt. All he could do was pour potions down her throat - when she could be convinced to let them past her lips - clean her thighs of blood and swaddle her again, and ask Turambar to sit by her and hold her hands to keep her calm.

"Keep the child calm," he probably said, though she cannot remember that.

* * *

The world opened up to her with dear, kind Brandir's help, as he named what seemed like everything under the Sun and Moon and helped her to remember, as he made games out of naming and explaining things, as he found ways for her to learn the world through play.

She loved Brandir, who's so clever and makes up such fun games, and she loved Turambar too who was seemingly always there to play with her when no one else would, who ran with her and caught her hands to swing her out about him while Brandir sat and watched their sport.

"Brandir!" she'd cry, still not too sure of her words. "Love you, Brandir!" And, as Turambar would sweep her up in his arms and whirl her about, "Love you, Turambar!" 

"I love you too, child," Bradnir would call back. Turambar would laugh and kiss her cheek and call her 'My Níniel'.

* * *

Once she could talk properly, walk surely once more and understand what was required of her she was put to work, the same as any of the other little girls.

It was hard for all the children, and they were all scolded when they did things wrong, but the women seemed to grow more cross with  _her_  when she didn't spin wool properly, or didn't churn the milk long enough. She'd be thinking loving thoughts towards them when they'd all of a sudden turn and snap at her.

Perhaps it was just because they were so preoccupied with teaching their own daughters and didn't want to bother with another girl.

One day the scolding came so unexpected that she began to cry, she shouted "I  _hate_  you!" in the face of her startled teacher and threw the spindle and wool to the earth and tried to run off. Of course she was stopped and was weeping under yet  _more_  scolding when Brandir limped up, very angry, and told them to stop that right now. 

"Let her alone for a while. Can't you see how fraught she is?"

"But, my lord Brandir-"

"For the sake of heaven, let her  _be!_  She's a  _child,_ not a grown woman _;_  she does not deserve one quarter of the hardship and scolding I've seen you all giving her! Were  _your_  fingers so nimble when you were barely a year old?"

He hugged her when they were left her alone and she hugged him back, saying between sobs that she wished Turambar was here and not off on one of his trips,  _he_  would make them sorry, they'd never be so harsh to her if  _he_  were with her-

"Hush, Níniel, hush, child, it's over now. I'll see to it they don't treat you so anymore. Ah, these people," Brandir strokes her hair and hugs her closer, "they don't see what should be clear."

* * *

Because of her tantrums, how hard she found things sometimes, Níniel was often alone. She couldn't stay with Brandir  _all_ the time, but she couldn't be happy with any other person in the settlement. The other children were afraid of her and wouldn't let her play with them, the women tried to be kind but sighed and scolded so, and the men...

They seemed to expect so much of her, and were disappointed when they didn't get it. She wanted to please them, and tried so hard, but sometimes she just didn't understand what they wanted. Why didn't they explain things? Why couldn't she _understand?_

She wanted Turambar to come back.

* * *

Turambar was back from his trip and they had time aplenty, now the women were not working her so hard (under Brandir's orders) for all sort of lovely things.

The kissing was not so lovely. He'd often done so before but this was different, he did it right on her lips as he held her face, and his tongue went into her mouth, and she felt something hard press up against her and she thought she should be afraid but...

...why should she? This was Turambar who loved and hugged and protected her, why should she feel afraid?

"Did you not like that?" he asked, when he drew back and saw her surprise. He looked sad and as if he might let her go, and she didn't want that, not really. She loved him and wanted to show him she did, so she stood on her toes and hugged him round the neck as she'd so often done before and kissed his lips. 

It was still rather strange as he bent over and into her, mumbled into her neck that he loved her, he had loved her from the moment he saw her, his mouth was wet and it felt strange on her neck but she loved him so much, so she let him love her back.

* * *

Brandir was angry. Níniel had never _seen_ him so angry. He had asked Turambar to leave them a while to talk, and looked as if he might have shouted it if Turambar hadn't backed down, nodded and walked away after one more look at her.

"What did he do, Níniel?"

"He kissed me, Lord Brandir."

Bradnir groans and clutches his hair. "Where?"

"On the lips" - she touched them, remembering how Brandir had taught her to use them, had prompted to them to prompt her to copy them - "on my neck. My breasts, too."

"Dear Lord of Heaven. This is dark work." Brandir turned and made his way to the wall. He looks both ill and sad. "Oh,  _Níniel."_

"Lord?" She walked to him, to take his hand. "What's the matter?"

"Níniel, what Lord Turambar did was wrong.  _Very_  wrong."

She didn't understand. She wished someone would just tell her what all this  _means_.

"I will have to make him wait. That's all I can do. How can I accuse him? Who would believe me? They don't understand, they don't understand something so  _simple-"_

" _I_  don't understand," she said.

Brandir took her by the shoulders and gripped hard. "You're too young, Níniel, too young. I must protect you." He pulled her close, not as Turambar had done but to stroke her hair and soothe her fear and worry. And not close; he'd left a gap between their bodies where their legs used to touch.

"A  _child,"_  he whispered in to her hair. She hears a sob in his voice. "A  _child,_  Valar forgive me. Valar forgive us."


End file.
